


all the things yet to come (are the things that have passed)

by peterparkr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sad with a Happy Ending, Terminal Illnesses, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, i don't know why i kept making Peter suffer, this is sad stuff i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 04:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19288219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterparkr/pseuds/peterparkr
Summary: The first time Peter sees Morgan is at the funeral. The thing that strikes him most is how small she looks, even for her age. It should make sense—her parents aren’t that tall or large by any standard—but for some reason it doesn’t. Peter had never really noticed that Tony was shorter than the other Avengers. He had always seemed larger than life. Maybe that’s why his death hit so hard.





	all the things yet to come (are the things that have passed)

**Author's Note:**

> I thought too hard about endgame, opened a google doc, and this came out. It basically follows the different stages of Peter's life, mainly focused on his bond with Morgan, but also with the other members of his family. I cried thinking up some of these scenes haha, so I'm sorry, but also, enjoy?
> 
> [tumblr!](https://peterparkrr.tumblr.com)

The first time Peter sees Morgan is at the funeral. The thing that strikes him most is how small she looks, even for her age. It should make sense—her parents aren’t that tall or large by any standard—but for some reason it doesn’t. Peter had never really noticed that Tony was shorter than the other Avengers. He had always seemed larger than life. Maybe that’s why his death hit so hard.

* * *

It takes him a week to work up the courage to ask May if it’s a good idea. Another week to call Pepper.

“I was wondering if maybe you needed a little downtime. I could babysit.”

“That sounds great, Peter.”

May drives him to the cabin. He’s expecting the overwhelming sadness that hits him when he sees the lake; he’s not expecting it to feel like a punch in the gut. May places a steady hand on his back as he struggles to catch his breath and keeps it there as they walk to the door.

May and Pepper go outside on the porch. Peter hopes they become good friends. He feels like maybe their families were destined to come together. Peter lost his parents. May lost Ben. Morgan lost her father. Pepper lost Tony. It makes a sort of cosmic sense.

Morgan’s studying him with an intensity that reminds him of her father’s. He realizes that he hasn’t said anything to her yet, but he doesn’t know exactly how to begin.

He knows that she’s probably confused, a little scared. Probably doesn’t understand the full weight of the word, death. She’s been told that she’ll never see her dad again, but probably doesn’t actually believe it or understand that it’s permanent.

He felt all those things when he was four.

Morgan crooks a finger, beckoning Peter down to her level. He crouches and she cups her hands around his ear.

“Can I see your secret spider suit?” she whispers.

Peter swallows around the lump in his throat.

“I’ll bring it next time.” 

Next time is the promise. Peter will always be there for Morgan, again and again.

* * *

Peter knows all about growing up without a parent.

He knows how it tinges every holiday with a certain melancholy that you don’t even feel that connected to. Your distant relatives knew them more than you ever will. It’s a hollow kind of sadness. 

He knows the pitiful looks and awkward lulls in conversation that follow the realization that you don’t have a father, or a mother, or both. 

He knows Father’s days with classmates asking why his card is addressed to his uncle and Career Days where he gets confused looks as the teacher introduces his aunt.

So, when Morgan presses an invitation into his hand for her 2nd grade class’s Daddy-Daughter dance, he understands. 

When he tells Pepper, she apologizes and then cries. She tells Peter that he can wear one of Tony’s old suits if he wants to go. 

He wears it, surprised that it actually fits. He’d shot up a few inches in the two years since Tony died. 

It sends him down a bit of a spiral. He measures himself, realizes he’s about an inch taller than Tony was. Then he realizes he’s two inches taller than Ben. He’s not sure how tall his dad was and he can’t bring himself to ask May.

He pictures a world where they’re all alive. Where he gets to stand up next to them and make fun of them for being shorter. It feels like a fairytale.

At the dance, the kids are still too little to notice that Peter is far too young to be a father, but the dads do. Peter can see them watching him, wanting to ask questions, but not knowing how. They know she’s a Stark. They know who her father was.

Peter just spins Morgan around again and again. When she gets tired, he picks her up and keeps going. He’s afraid that if he stops they might try to ask him.

“Your dad would have loved this,” he tells her as he sways back and forth. He actually can't picture Tony on the sticky dance floor, but it feels like the right thing to say.

“I wish he was here,” she says.

“He is.” 

Peter’s not sure if he believes it, but he hopes.

* * *

He decides on MIT. Ned does too, and it’s everything that Peter ever wished for. 

But Boston is just a little too far from New York for comfort. He’ll miss May. He’ll miss Pepper. He’ll miss Morgan.

He goes home almost every weekend to patrol. The papers speculate that Spider-Man went to college. For once they’re right.

Morgan calls almost every night for a bedtime story. She didn’t do that when he lived in New York, but he dutifully spins a tale every night anyway.

“I think it makes her nervous that you’re so far away,” Pepper explains after Morgan has handed her back the phone. “I’m so sorry Peter, I can make her stop if it bothers you.”

It doesn’t.

Her favorite stories are the adventures of Iron Man and Spider-Man. It’s not as painful to tell those stories these days, but there’s not too much material to work with. Peter didn’t have all that much time with Tony in the grand scheme of things, and most of that time was spent in labs or just hanging out at the compound. Not quite the exciting story that Morgan is looking for, so he creates more. He adds Tony to missions that he’s done solo, adds himself to stories Tony told him about his escapades long before Peter got bit by a spider.

“Do an Iron Man and Spider-Man,” she demands one night. “But add me. I could be Iron Girl.”

It throws Peter for a bit of a loop. He’s not quite sure why. All he says is “Oh.”

“Or you don’t have to,” Morgan says quickly. “I know I wasn’t really there. It’s between you and my dad.”

Morgan doesn’t often acknowledge that the Iron Man in the stories is her father. It makes Peter’s stomach flip. 

“Of course I’ll add you to a story, silly, I just have to decide which one we could have most used your help in. It would have been a game changer to have a little Maguna magic there.”

The dynamic duo in Peter’s stories is always a trio after that.

* * *

Peter rejects the job at Stark Industries. It feels too easy, because Pepper is the CEO. It feels too weird, because he’d always imagined working there with Tony.

Besides, he’s got a lot of other offers. Many of them would take him to California though, which isn’t great. He’s not sure if he’s ready to move Spider-Man across the country. He definitely doesn’t want to break up with Ned, who took a great job at a software security firm in New York. He can’t imagine leaving May or Pepper or Morgan.

But there are still plenty of options nearby. He will find the one that is the perfect fit.

Pepper doesn’t call him about the job rejection. In fact, she doesn’t call him for a few weeks, which is weird for her. 

Morgan does call him. She’s in middle school now, and just got her first phone. Peter’s surprised to see her name flash as an incoming call, she’s more of a texter.

“I think my mom’s mad at you.”

Peter’s eyebrows knit together. “About the job?”

“Mmhm, she doesn’t understand why you’re trying to get away from us.”

Peter mouth hangs open. He would never try to leave them. He thought that Pepper understood that.

He calls her.

“I’m not mad,” Pepper says. “But I am glad you called, Peter, I think you should reconsider turning down the job.”

“I already made my decision,” Peter replies carefully.

“I know, and if that’s what you really want, I completely support you. But I think you should know that I didn’t pull any strings to get you that job. I didn’t mention to anyone that I knew you.” 

Peter is surprised. It had been a good position, not just an entry-level.

Pepper goes on to tell him that Tony had always said that Peter would work at the company one day, that he was the brightest kid that Tony had ever met, more competent than the college interns. He had pictured turning over the company to Peter one day. And now, Pepper pictures the future of Stark Industries in both Peter and Morgan’s hands.

Peter’s left speechless when she finishes speaking. Even after all these years, Tony’s praise means more to him than most people’s.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.” What he really means is that he’s definitely taking it. “Did you really tell Morgan that I was trying to get away from you guys?”

Pepper sounds surprised. “I think maybe that was just Morgan, she was pretty upset when she found out that California was on the table.”

Peter calls Morgan. She doesn’t answer. Typical. He texts her instead.

_I think I’m taking the position at your mom’s company._

His phone pings a second later.

_Good._

* * *

Being back in the city is good for his soul. Peter had loved Boston, but he was built for Queens. He’s moved back in with May for the time being until he and Ned save enough money to buy a place of their own.

He’s able to spend more time with Morgan. She’s fallen in love with the stars, talks about space and space travel constantly now. Her biggest dream is to build a spacecraft that runs on arc reactor technology.

He takes her to one of the highest buildings in the city so that she can see the stars from a little closer. He puts on his suit and straps a helmet to her head because it seems like the responsible thing to do. He tries not to think that if he actually dropped her, the helmet would be absolutely useless.

They make it to the top without disaster, and then lay down, staring up at the stars. Morgan chatters about constellations, how far away other galaxies are, how long it would take to get to them at different speeds. 

“I want to fly!” she exclaims, hopping to her feet. “Don’t you?”

Peter laughs. “Swinging is kind of like flying.”

She looks thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess.”

Peter rolls onto his side so he can watch her walk around the rooftop. His stomach does a little dance whenever she gets too close to the edges, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He knows that would just make her test the limits more, see how close she can get before he actually gets up to stop her.

“If I fell,” she asks. “Would you catch me?”

“Of course.”

He should have seen it coming, but he didn’t. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Morgan dives over the edge. 

There’s no time for thought. Peter’s up and over to the side of the roof she disappeared over. He sees Morgan falling down, down, down, her yellow helmet like a beacon in the dark. He shoots a web. It hits her stomach.

It’s only then that his brain comes fully back online, and it’s screaming. His hands shake violently as he pulls Morgan back up. It’s a slower process than it would normally be, he’s so irrationally afraid that the shaking will cause him to drop the web.

When she’s back on the rooftop, she practically vibrates with energy. She jumps up and down in exhilaration. 

“That was awesome!” she whoops, punching a fist in the air.

Peter’s heart is still stampeding in his chest. When he doesn’t answer her, Morgan stops celebrating and looks at him. She takes in his face and pales; she has the decency to look guilty.

“Why would you—why would you do that?” Peter asks, but it doesn’t sound like his voice. “What were you thinking?”

“I knew you would catch me, and you did. It’s fine.”

“If you want to fly, you ask me to swing with you. You don’t just jump off a building. You could have _died_.”

She looks chastised, muttering apologies. He takes her home; every movement he makes is calculated and painfully slow. Morgan doesn’t comment on it.

That night, he dreams of yellow helmets and Morgan’s body on a sidewalk.

He crawls into May’s bed like he did when he was a child. She cards her hands through his hair and doesn’t ask any questions.

* * *

He knows grief well enough to know that it doesn’t go away. It just fades into the background so that you can live life for a while. Just when you think it will never be as strong as it once was it comes roaring back to life.

It’s the ten year anniversary of the day that half the world was brought back. They call it Iron Day. Peter always wishes that they named it after the man instead of the suit, but then again, they were one in the same.

He wakes up slowly, feeling a heavy weight settle on his chest. It quickly grows hostile, the walls of the room he shares with Ned seem to press in around him, he can’t get enough air into his lungs. His boyfriend is there in an instant with worried eyes and comforting hands rubbing shapes into his skin.

When it subsides, he feels empty. He can’t quite seem to shake it, can already feel his chest starting to constrict again.

“A whole decade,” he says.

A whole decade in a world without Tony Stark. A whole decade in a world without Iron Man. It doesn’t seem right that the earth has managed to keep turning without him, but Peter knows it’s exactly what he wanted.

Ned echoes the words. He drags Peter to the kitchen, sets him down at the table and starts making breakfast. Peter loves him.

The city’s made another plaque, commemorating both Tony and Nat. Everyone’s supposed to be there—Peter’s little patchwork family, the remaining avengers, probably all of New York plus some visitors.

It should be celebratory, enough time has passed. But, it’s not a good day. In fact it’s a bad day—the worst Peter has had in a while. It’s not cold, but he can’t seem to stop shaking.

“I’m really losing it,” he tells Ned. They’re parked outside Pepper and Morgan’s house because Peter’s adamant that they can’t go in when he’s like this. Time had healed the wound, but something about today seems to have sliced it right open.

“Do you want me to get May? I bet she’s inside already.” 

At 26, he feels too old to cry in his aunt’s arms. He shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut tight, takes a few large breathes.

“Let’s go in.”

He makes it inside, but only just, leaning heavily into Ned the whole way. 

Pepper had invited all the heroes to a luncheon before the ceremony. Peter wishes they weren’t there, so he could fall apart in peace.

He shapes his face into something that he hopes doesn’t look like a person who’s one wrong word away from his third panic attack of the day.

Ned, bless him, doesn’t leave Peter’s side. He does all of the talking, albeit awkwardly. He still gets a little star-struck around the Avengers and his conversational blunders bring a ghost of a smile to Peter’s face.

Morgan is watching him throughout the whole lunch, but she doesn’t come over, doesn’t even say hi. It stings a little, but maybe it’s for the best. She shouldn’t have to see him like this.

The ceremony is hard. The plaque is beautiful. Pepper and Rhodey stand up and give amazing speeches about Tony. Then Clint and Bruce about Natasha. 

Peter can’t stop crying—and the shaking, he’s like a leaf in the wind. Ned rubs his right arm and May his left as if they’re trying to warm him up. He wants to tell them to stop, he’s not cold, but he doesn’t have any words.

Morgan’s in the row in front of them, and she keeps turning halfway around to stare at Peter. Her eyes remain dry. Peter feels like an idiot. Tony’s own daughter is dealing with this better than him.

It’s just a bad day, he reminds himself, they pass.

When the ceremony is finally over, all Peter wants is to go back to his apartment. He’s worse at keeping track of his senses when he’s stressed or upset, so everything is too much all at once. He wants to curl up on his bed with Ned until this cursed day is over. But he didn’t know how bad today would be when they had planned it a couple of weeks ago. 

They go to his grave. It’s a smaller group of people than what was at Pepper’s house earlier, for that Peter is grateful. 

He’s been to Tony’s grave many times over the last ten years. Lately, he doesn’t even cry, just goes to update Tony on his life, on Pepper and Morgan, on the world. But today, he steps out of the car and the flashbacks are so strong. He’s in the battle again, watching Tony’s face grow paler, the light of his armor blinking out. He’s at the funeral, watching the arc reactor float on the lake.

“Put these down there for me.” Peter hands Ned his bouquet of flowers. “I just can’t right now.”

Ned hesitates, looking Peter up and down. “I can stay here with you.”

Peter waves him off. He waits until the group is far enough away from the parking lot and then sinks to the ground. He closes his eyes and rests his head against their car.

“Are you okay?” He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that it’s Morgan.

He opens them anyway and plasters a smile on his face. He nods and she looks at him skeptically, far too wise for 15. Peter wonders if Tony ever thought that about him.

“Okay, let’s make a pact right now.” She sits down next to him. “We don’t lie to each other, no secrets, _ever_ , but especially about stuff like this.”

The smile falls from his face. He sighs and watches the the circle of people around Tony’s grave for a few minutes.

“It’s just one of those days,” Peter finally says. “It’s really hitting me—how long it’s been.”

Morgan nods and leans her head on his shoulder. Peter closes his eyes again. He’s so emotionally drained that he could probably pass out right here.

“I barely remember him,” Morgan says quietly. 

New tears spring to Peter’s eyes at the words. He pulls Morgan into a hug so that she won’t see them.

* * *

Morgan announces that she will be bringing a boy to their next family dinner. 

May thinks it’s adorable. Pepper can’t believe that her little girl is dating. Ned thinks it’s sort of funny.

Even though he hasn’t met the boyfriend, Peter already doesn’t like him.

“We had our first date in high school, and now we’re married! Maybe he’s the one,” Ned teases.

“First of all, it wasn’t our first date because I didn’t know it was a date,” Peter says. “And second, no, just no.”

“Come on, Peter they’re just kids, feeling first love! It’s cute.”

“I hate straight boys,” Peter sighs.

“I know you do.”

“They’re evil, especially in high school.”

“Agreed.”

“I hope she realizes that she’s a lesbian.”

Ned cracks up and then swats at Peter fondly.

The boyfriend is just as bad as Peter expects. A total bonehead, the kind of guy who only calls his girlfriend ‘babe’, even at his first dinner with her family. 

Ned had promised to kick Peter under the table whenever he needs to fix his face. But neither of them had expected the sheer number of times that the gesture would be needed.

The table that they sit at has six chairs, so there’s usually an empty one. Having this boy here makes Peter realize that he had been subconsciously thinking of it as Tony’s chair. The boy’s presence in it grates on his nerves.

About half-way through dinner, Ned upgrades from light kicks to practically stomping on Peter’s foot while simultaneously shooting him annoyed looks. 

“And everyone’s surprised that Morgan agreed to be with me, you know, because she’s, like, the hottest girl in school, a total babe—and also like, Morgan _Stark_ , you know? But I guess she thinks I’m not so bad, isn’t that right babe?”

Morgan’s blushing furiously, and how is she falling for this? Even May looks a put off by the statement. Peter rolls his eyes and quickly excuses himself to the bathroom before Ned can bring down his foot again.

He stands in the bathroom for a long time. There isn’t a single part of him that wants to go back out there. He knows he’s acting like a child, but he hates the kid, he didn’t even get his name. 

When he finally opens the bathroom door, the boy is outside of it. He looks at Peter nervously.

“Listen, man, I can tell that you don’t like me too much so far,” The kid starts and Peter’s blood boils because no shit. “Morgan talks about you all the time, you seem like a pretty cool dude, I know you’re looking out for her because of her dad and all.”

“Pepper can look after her just fine. She doesn’t need a man watching over her.” Sexist pig, Peter really hates straight boys.

“Woah, I didn’t mean it like that, just that she really appreciates having you in her life and stuff.”

It’s nice to hear, but it doesn’t mean Peter likes the kid.

He helps Pepper with dishes while the rest of the family hangs out in the other room. Well the rest of the family plus Morgan’s boyfriend. He is _not_ part of the family.

“Alex reminds me of Tony when I first met him,” she says as she dries a plate.

So the kid’s name is Alex, good to know.

“He just needs to learn and grow up a bit, he’s not all bad,” she continues, shooting Peter a look that makes him regret his behavior at the dinner table.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles.

Pepper just shakes her head. “I do wish she’d break up with him and find a boy who’s already done some of that growing.”

Alex’s mom picks him up and May leaves a few minutes after him. She gives everyone a kiss on the cheek on her way out. Ned and Peter gather their belongings to make their exit as well. 

“Peter, wait!” Morgan calls, just as he’s about to step into his car. 

She runs up to him. He wouldn’t say that she looks mad, exactly, but she’s definitely not happy.

“You hated him, didn’t you?” It’s an accusation, but it also sounds resigned, like she knew it would be the case.

“Yeah, a little,” Peter says truthfully. 

Morgan huffs and walks back inside. She breaks up with Alex two weeks later.

* * *

“What happened to not lying to each other?” Peter’s never heard his own voice this loud. He’s angry. He’s scared, which makes him more angry.

“I never fucking lied!” Morgan screams back. “I just didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business!”

“That sounds an awful lot like a secret!” Peter shoots back.

Peter’s practically trying to claw the armor off of her, desperate to make sure that everything beneath it is intact.

“That’s not how it comes off and you know it.” Morgan rolls her eyes and taps the light on her chest twice. The nano-particles seep back into the compartment.

Peter’s eyes dart over Morgan’s body, searching for cuts and bruises, or worse, broken bones, burns, strange alien wounds. He feels up and down her arms for anything he can’t see. There’s nothing, except the cut splitting her lip.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he mumbles, mostly to himself.

Morgan pushes him away from her. “That’s the point of the armor, dumbass.”

The anger is back in full force. He snatches the nano-tech from her hands. She yelps in surprise and then glares.

“Did you make this?” he demands.

Morgan lunges for it, but Peter holds it above her head.

“It’s my dad’s, with a few modifications.” She sounds proud of the last part, and if she had told him before this point, Peter probably would have praised her for it.

“I know you want to be like him, but this isn’t the way to do it,” he says sharply. “He wouldn’t want you on the streets. He didn’t even make a suit until he was twice your age!”

As soon as the words settle, Peter wishes he could take them back. He shouldn’t use her father’s memory against her. She looks hurt.

“But you did! You were patrolling when you were younger than I am.”

And she’s right. Time does weird things to your perspective. He remembers feeling so old at 14, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Now he looks at 18-year-old Morgan and all he can see is her youth. She’s too young, far too young to be a part of the fight.

“Just, take your time,” he says. “You have so many years left to be a hero, but not so many to be a kid. Enjoy college, go to a musical festival or something, study abroad.”

“That’s rich coming from you! You came back to be Spider-Man every single weekend. I’m trying to be like _you_!”

Words come to Peter’s brain, uninvited. They’re old words, not his own. They come from back when everything was simpler, but it didn’t feel like it at the time.

_And I wanted you to be better._

And he gets it. He can see that day with the ferry from both sides now.

He drops the compartment into Morgan’s hand. She looks up at him, confused.

“If I catch you out in the suit again, I’m taking it away.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, why even give it back to me?”

 _Because I know you’ll do it anyway,_ he thinks, but doesn’t say. _Because if you do go out there without it, you will die and I’ll never forgive myself._

“Because I’ll train you here.” Morgan’s face breaks into a grin and Peter holds up a finger. “Don’t look too happy, I’m still telling your mom.”

Her smile falters momentarily, but she still wraps her arms tightly around Peter. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“I’ll ask your mom and Uncle Rhodey to help, too, they know more about using this kind of suit than I do.”

* * *

It’s a Saturday, Peter’s favorite day of the week because sometimes, if he's lucky, all responsibilities can be put on hold for a little while. He and Ned sleep until noon. They’ll probably spend the whole day lounging in comfy clothes. They might actually get to open the lego set that they bought a couple of months back (because screw acting your age).

It’s also Tony’s birthday. He mentions it to Ned while they’re eating a late breakfast, just as an offhand comment.

“Wow, how old would he be?”

Peter realizes he doesn’t know and a pang of panic and guilt hits him hard. He struggles to breathe for a second, starts coughing and gasping. He tries to think of how old Ben would be, but he can’t conjure up that number either. He’s losing them.

“Hey, hey, Pete.” Ned’s watching him worriedly. “You good?”

“Yea—good—choked,” he wheezes between gulps of air.

Ned doesn’t look like he believes him. It takes too long for Peter to breath completely normally again, even longer for the last tremor to leave his body. Ned doesn’t point it out, Peter’s grateful for it.

 

 

When Morgan shows up at their apartment’s door crying, Peter assumes it’s about the birthday.

It’s not.

She’s back in the city after her first year at MIT. Peter had thought that she seemed off at the dinner they had at Pepper’s place to welcome her home, but she had insisted she was fine.

“I have to transfer,” she says now, storming into their living room and planting herself on the couch. “But I can’t tell my mom. I can’t _do_ that. Do you know what the press will do with that story? MIT’s most esteemed alumnus, Earth’s greatest defender, savior of all, the late, great Tony Stark’s daughter leaves MIT because she can’t fucking stand it.”

Her voice drips with sarcasm as she lists Tony’s accolades. She definitely doesn’t know what day it is—she wouldn’t be saying it like this if she did.

Ned sits down on the couch. He leaves a space between him and Morgan, pats it for Peter to sit down.

“I hate living in his shadow,” Morgan says. 

Peter’s starting to feel shaky again. He’s thankful that Ned speaks first.

“What do you hate about MIT?”

“Oh, let’s see. Some of my professors are so ancient that I’m pretty sure they taught my dad. The younger ones were his classmates and colleagues. Either way, they look at me and see him! They expect me to be exactly like him in every way. And I have no friends, because everyone who was nice to me was doing it because of my last name. It sucks! And I miss the city and you guys and my mom and May.”

Peter finds his voice. “I hear you, Morgs, that’s awful.”

She looks relieved that Peter thinks so. She lets out a sigh and leans her head on him.

“But I think that there are shitty people everywhere. Some of them will always want to be close to you for the wrong reasons. And unfortunately, no matter where you go, people are still going to know who your dad is, and make assumptions from that.”

Peter’s known Morgan a lot longer than he knew Tony, so he doesn’t see his ghost whenever he looks at her. But, he can see why people would. She looks a lot like him, has his attitude and his brain.

“If you want to transfer schools, that’s fine. Don’t even factor what some reporter might say into the equation. I’d love to have you closer.” Peter nudges her a little when he says that and Morgan’s lips turn up slightly. “But, it’s not going to fix everything, okay? So think about it.”

Peter walks her down to the street, where Happy’s waiting with a car. It's always jarring to see the man's wisps of white hair, the abundant wrinkles that adorn his face now. He doesn't notice the age so much on Pepper and May because he sees them almost daily. Happy throws a thinly veiled look of annoyance at Morgan for taking so long and Peter smirks a little at the man’s signature disgruntled demeanor. Some things never change.

“Hey, Happy,” he says.

“Hi, kid.”

He hugs Morgan tight before she hops inside. “You’ll figure it out, and if you don’t, call me. I’m always here to talk.”

He watches the car pull out, waves. 

He feels restless, so he walks down the street. He passes a flower shop, so he picks up a bouquet for Ned.

He makes a big show of it when he gets back to the apartment.

“For you, my love.” He gets down on one knee and holds up them up.

“You idiot, get up,” Ned replies, but his smile is big.

Ned grabs a vase and sets the flowers up in water. He keeps glancing at Peter and then looking away.

“I’m sorry she forgot about today,” he eventually says.

“People forget birthdays all the time, it’s not a big deal,” Peter replies, working to make his voice sound nonchalant.

“Yeah I know, but it hurt you. So I’m sorry that it happened.”

“I’m fine.” 

Ned purses his lips, obviously unconvinced, but he lets it go.

“I’m opening the imperial shuttle.”

* * *

The process of adoption is strenuous, filled with false starts and stops. It puts a strain on Peter and Ned’s marriage that he hadn’t thought possible. They had always been so steady. 

Peter understands why Ned blames him for the last child that fell through, in fact he agrees. He’d been held up at work, then lost track of time on patrol. He completely missed the social worker’s final visit. He slept on the couch that night.

It’s not the only thing that causes tension between them. May’s sick. She’s been in and out of the hospital since February. When she got readmitted in October, the doctor told Peter that this time she might be in for good.

“You said she was better,” he remembers saying. “You said she wouldn’t have to come back."

The doctor had shaken his head sadly, tried to start explaining, but Peter didn’t wait to hear anymore. He stormed out of the hospital. Ned had followed and he wouldn’t stop talking, trying to calm Peter down. Peter didn’t want to be calm.

“Stop, just stop! Get away from me!” he remembers screaming. 

Now it’s December.

The walls are crashing down, as they always do eventually.

He’s having anxiety attacks again. There seem to be more each week. He hides them from Ned because he can’t disappoint him again. He hides them from May because she needs him to be strong. He doesn’t see Pepper or Morgan because his days are full: work, hospital, patrol, repeat. Pepper’s left him countless messages telling him to take some time off work, but he only calls in sick when he finds himself curled into a ball in his car, shaking uncontrollably for seemingly no reason.

He doesn’t sleep much either. Just lies staring at the ceiling thinking about May or the prominent gap between his and Ned’s bodies. 

One such night, the phone rings and dread courses through Peter’s veins. There’s only one reason why someone would be calling this late. He suddenly can’t make his limbs work to answer the phone, he’s shaking and hyperventilating uncontrollably. The whole commotion wakes Ned. There’s no hiding this one from him.

“Breathe, Pete,” he says softly and then grabs the phone from the shelf.

Peter should be able to hear what is said, but instead his senses are going wild. He hears waves on the bay, a rat in a sewer somewhere, the beat of his heart.

Ned hangs up the phone. “Come here.” He pulls Peter into his arms.

It feels good. It feels like them. Peter hates that it takes this kind of moment to get there.

When he can breathe again, and the shaking fades, Ned speaks. “They’re not sure if she’s going to make it through the night, we should probably get over there. Think you can get up?”

Peter breaks the moment because of course he does. He pushes himself out of Ned’s arms and starts rifling through drawers.

“You don’t have to come, go back to sleep, sorry I woke you.”

“Peter.” His voice is equal parts sad and exasperated. 

Peter changes quickly, pulling on jeans, a T-shirt and mismatched socks. He walks out of their room and into the kitchen. Ned follows him.

“Peter, it’s 30 degrees outside, put a jacket on,” Ned pleads.

Peter grabs the keys. Ned moves in front of him to block the door.

“You’ve got to stop doing this. Stop pushing me away!” His voice is desperate.

Peter pushes past him. He leaves without saying a word.

May makes it through the night, but the message is clear. She doesn’t have much time left. 

Peter thinks he should be comfortable with the concept of death. He’s experienced enough of it. He makes it out of his hospital and back to his car before he has another breakdown. He’s shaking again; this time, it is partly because of the cold. He wishes Ned were there to hold him. Or a healthy May. Or Pepper. 

Every loss in his life so far has been sudden, unexpected. Peter doesn’t know how to prepare for one. He thinks it’s poisoning him from the inside out—the waiting. He’s been waiting for the whole year. He’s been given hope only to have it dashed away. It’s driving him insane.

 

 

Ned thinks that they should postpone the child search for a while. 

“It’s not the right time,” he explains. “It’s been a tough year.”

There’s an unspoken _and it’s going to get tougher._

“Great, so my last living relative will never meet my child,” Peter snaps. 

He hates himself for it, knows he’s lashing out because he’s sad and scared and angry at the world for seemingly always screwing him over. He knows that Ned is right. He’s in no condition to add a new member to his family.

“I’m fucking _trying_ , Peter.” 

A few seconds later Peter hears him slam their bedroom door.

A sharp pang hits Peter’s chest. He falls to the floor clutching it with a gasp. This time it must be a heart attack, it’s so strong.

It’s not. And Ned doesn’t come to check on Peter.

It feels like the beginning of the end.

 

 

He knows Ned must have talked to Pepper because she calls him. He sends her to voicemail. She calls back. They play the game for a while. Peter hates himself for being so immature, so on the 6th call he picks up.

“Hi, honey, it’s been a while, maybe you and Ned could come over tonight? Or just you?” 

Ned told her more than he had thought.

“I’m busy tonight,” he croaks and hangs up before she can say anything else.

 

 

When everything goes wrong, Peter has Spider-Man. Tony once told him that he shouldn’t have the suit if he thinks he’s nothing without it. Now, the suit is the only thing keeping Peter from sliding completely over the edge. He wonders what Tony would think of that.

When he puts on the mask, he’s not really Peter Parker anymore. He’s a man who has saved millions, protected the city year after year, even the whole world a few times, the whole universe once. He has a purpose. He isn’t a broken boy in a man’s body.

But some things do carry over between the two. His reflexes are slower from so many sleepless nights. His heart beats too fast sometimes and he has to press his hands onto the side of a building to ground himself until it slows.

And he’s just a little too reckless. Takes a few more risks than he should.

There’s a young man being held at gunpoint in an alleyway. Peter’s there in a flash. He flips in and grabs the gun, a triumphant grin on his face. 

“Nice try, man,” he says drily. “But I’ve got your gun. Give him back his wallet and you might get it back.”

There’s no way in hell Peter gives this creep back his gun, they both know it.

The mugger pulls another gun out, Peter’s just barely saved from getting a bullet straight in the head by his enhanced senses. 

Peter sighs. "Why do you have two guns?" 

He lunges at the mugger and pins him to the ground. He finds the wallet in his pocket and throws it in the direction of the victim, who grabs it and runs out of the alley. 

While Peter’s distracted, the mugger grabs a nearby piece of loose concrete. He slams it against Peter’s head. Stars erupt behind his eyes and the mugger takes the opportunity to snatch his other gun from Peter and take off.

Peter gets up slowly, groggy. He winces as he brings a hand to up to the slash left by the rock. His fingers come away wet. But it’s just a scratch, he heals fast. 

He gets up and takes off after the mugger. It’s a stupid decision. His head is fuzzy from exhaustion and the possible concussion. He already saved the victim, and the victim's possessions. He knows better. It’s the kind of thing he would have done at 15, itching to prove himself. Not something he would normally do nowadays, when he’s made promises to people. He does it anyway.

The man cuts into an alley, Peter on his heels. When he realizes that it’s a dead end, the mugger turns to face Peter, cocking a gun. Peter pounces and whacks it out of his hand, but he doesn’t have time to celebrate. He feels the tip of the other gun nuzzle into his stomach. The back of his neck lights up as if on fire, his spidey sense signaling frantically.

“Wait, no!” Peter cries.

Too late. The shot echoes off the buildings around them. The mugger runs.

Peter’s first thought is that he broke his vows. He’d promised Ned on their wedding day that he would do everything in his power to eliminate excessive risks. He doesn’t think he did that today.

Peter sinks to the ground slowly. He looks down, sees the blood spreading steadily across his suit. He reaches around his back, feels warm, damp. The bullet passed right through.

His brain is going fuzzier every second.

“Karen, need to stop the blood,” Peter says. “Too much blood.”

“Your medical web can be deployed now, Peter.” 

Peter stares blankly into space.

“Use your webs, Peter.” The AI sounds gentle. How did Tony program her to be so gentle?

He stops the bleeding through his stomach and back and tries to stand. 

“Do you want me to call 911, Peter?” 

“No, I heal fast, remember? I’ll be fine.”

Her silence feels like judgement, but he’d undone her safety protocols and training programs long ago. There’s nothing she can do to force him to get help.

He tries to stand, but pain ripples through him. It’s everywhere. He looks down and sees that the webbing holding his skin together is already soaked in red. He slumps to the ground. 

He feels his will to fight dropping rapidly. So this is it then. He’ll die like Ben—in a dingy alley at the hands of a simple mugger. It seems like poetic justice.

“Do you want me to call 911 now, Peter?”

He just shakes his head. It’ll be okay, even if he dies, it’ll be okay. His eyes are drifting shut. 

“‘So You Disabled All My Other Protocols Again’ protocol triggered.”

That brings him out of his stupor. “Karen—wha?”

“Hey, kid.”

Peter’s mind short-circuits.

“So you disabled all my other protocols. _Again._ Honestly, I’m impressed. I thought I encrypted them so well that even your guy in the chair couldn’t hack them. You guys make a good team.

If Karen activated this protocol, it means you’re in a bit of trouble, kid. Well, probably not just a bit. You know what, I’m not going to think about what mess you got yourself into. That’s for future me to worry about. 

But back to the point, this message means that you should call for help, but you’re resisting Karen’s attempts to. So call me, kid. Right now. Or your aunt. Or 911. Use your own judgement there. Whatever it is that’s stopping you from calling someone—it’s not worth your life, Peter. No matter how big it feels, it’s not worth that. I might be angry, your hot aunt might be angry, but mostly we’ll just be relieved that you’re okay. I can fix anything except death—I’m working on it though.

Okay, I’m going to wrap this thing up, kiddo. _Get help. Now._ ”

Even in death, Tony’s saving Peter’s life.

Peter’s eyes are blurry with tears. He bites his lip to try to repress the sobs that threaten to wrack his body. Every slight tremor causes intense pain in his abdomen.

He can’t call an ambulance, it’ll give away his identity. 

He can’t go to his apartment; he can’t show up to Ned like this. If their marriage wasn’t already in tatters, he feels like this could do the trick. He broke a vow.

He can’t go to May. May is in the hospital. That thought alone is almost enough to make him curl back up on the ground.

He focuses on Tony’s message. He can’t go to Tony, but he can go to Pepper.

“I need to get to Pepper’s,” he tells Karen. “Get me there?”

“I would advise you to call 911 instead.”

“Karen, please.”

“May I suggest calling Pepper then?”

“Don’t wanna make her come here. I can make it. Please.”

She starts reading out directions.

Peter doesn’t remember most of his journey to the cabin. He’s vaguely aware that he’s moving forward, albeit slowly. He knows that he keeps spraying more webbing on the gunshot wound whenever Karen tells him to. He feels like the pain is subsiding. He thinks that means that he’s going into shock. He knows he’s starting to black out a little.

Suddenly, he’s stumbling up Pepper’s drive. All the determination he had used to get here is dissipating quickly. He collapses with a thud on the lawn. He rips his mask off because he’s having trouble breathing. The cool air feels good on his hot skin.

“Peter?” 

He raises his head slightly. Morgan’s staring down at him from her window.

He didn’t know she was back from college. Or maybe he did, he can’t quite remember. But it makes sense, it’s December. She’s probably on winter break.

It lights a little spark of motivation in him. Morgan can’t see him like this. He painfully gets to his feet. He feels delirious.

She’s at his side a few minutes later.

“Maguna Maguna Magoo.” He slurs.

“Oh my god, Peter, you haven’t called me that in years. How drunk are you?”

Peter has to think about it. He does feel sort of drunk. He’s floaty and dizzy and his stomach aches. But it’s because he was shot. He’s lost a lot of blood. It’s good that Morgan hasn’t realized. It’s probably too dark for her to see that one part of his suit is a different shade of red than it should be. 

“Not drunk,” he says.

“Sure, you aren’t.”

“Your dad used to call you Maguna.”

He thinks that she already knew that but he feels the need to make sure. Morgan doesn’t say anything, so he plows on. 

“I don’t know why, I wasn’t there. But, I talked to him tonight.”

That’s not exactly right. He’s getting more and more confused. He heard Tony’s voice though, he’s sure of that.

“God, Peter.”

She sounds disappointed. He keeps screwing up.

“Sorry.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” She tries to put an arm around him to help him in, but he steps out of the way. It feels very important to not let her clothes get bloody.

He stumbles towards the steps up to the porch of the house. The first step proves far too difficult so he plops down onto the next one.

Morgan sighs and sits next to him. “I didn’t even think you could get this drunk with your super-metabolism. Seriously, should I be worried about alcohol poisoning?”

He’s starting to forget why he came here. He’s just making Morgan sad. He should leave. But then he remembers Tony’s message. He’s a little foggy on why, but he needs to talk to Pepper.

“Can you get your mom?” It scares him that it’s really hard to force sounds out of his mouth.

“Do you want her to see you like this, dude?”

And that’s a good point. He doesn’t know if he should protest it. Seems like too much work, so he doesn’t.

Thoughts are coming and going in quick succession. He still has a feeling that he needs to get to Pepper, but it’s fading. Who he really wants is May. May’s in the hospital. 

“Hear ‘bout May?”

Morgan’s eyes are so sad and Peter feels like he made a big mistake. He didn’t mean to upset her.

“Yeah, Mom and I visited her today. Or maybe yesterday, now, I think it’s past midnight.”

“Don’t be sad, s’rry.” He thinks he’s crying again.

“I’m not sad, shhh.” She uses her thumb to wipe tears out from under Peter’s eyes. “I mean, I am sad. But mostly I’m just worried about you. Why haven’t you been texting me back?”

That’s a good question. It takes tremendous effort to try to put together the reason why he might have done such a thing. He lands on Ned because he misses him.

“N’d’s gon’ leave me.” 

“Peter, no he’s not, he loves you.”

The sharpest pang of pain yet shoots out from his core. His vision goes black and he slumps forward.

“Woah, are you—“

She’s cut off by Pepper’s voice from inside the house.

“Morgan, have you heard from Peter? Ned called, said he hasn’t come home.”

“See he’s looking for you!” Morgan goes to pat his back comfortingly, but her hand lands right on the exit wound. Peter lets out a low whine.

“What’s on your—oh my god.” There’s a moment of shocked silence and then she’s screaming.

“Mom! MOM!”

It gets a little less dark, maybe they switched on a light. Pepper must make it out to them because Peter hears her voice closer now. He can’t make out exactly what she says, but he can make out Morgan’s screams.

“I thought he was drunk, oh my god, Mom, I thought he was drunk.”

Peter tries to sit up. Morgan shouldn’t be screaming. He caused that. Tony would be disappointed.

“S’rry Tony,” he mumbles.

“Did he just say Tony, Mom, oh my god. Is he going to be okay? Mom! There’s so much blood.”

He wishes she would stop screaming. It’s hurting his ears.

“Honey.” He likes Pepper’s voice, it’s soothing and calm. “Go grab my phone, Bruce’s number is in my contacts, call him until he answers.”

“Oh my god, Mom. Why would I think he got drunk in his suit? I’m so stupid.”

“Morgan.” Her voice is sharp but not unkind. Peter knows that voice from meetings at work. It’s CEO Pepper. “Go, now. He’s going to be fine.”

He hears Morgan’s footsteps retreating.

“Listen up, Parker,” Pepper says. “I just told my daughter that you’re going to be okay, so you’re going to be. Got it?”

Peter’s head is so heavy. He lifts it a bit in a nod anyway. He’ll try his best—for Morgan. He doesn’t want to be her Uncle Ben.

 

 

When he wakes up, it’s Bruce’s green face hovering above him. His hair is basically white now, but he’s got the same kind eyes.

“Hi Peter, long time no see. How are you feeling?”

Peter doesn’t feel like he has a body. His eyelids are already drooping again. He only manages a grunt as he falls back under.

 

 

The next time he wakes up, he feels more like a person. His eyes dart around the room. Ned is sitting in a chair not even a foot away. He’s holding Peter’s hand with one of his and rubbing circles into it with the other.

“N’d?”

“Oh my god.” Ned stands abruptly, letting go of his hand. “You’re awake!” 

Ned covers his mouth with his hands, but a relieved laugh still escapes it. He’s crying a little, too. Peter thinks that maybe they’re okay.

But then Ned’s face hardens. He makes like he’s going to punch Peter’s arm, but when his hand makes contact, it’s not even a nudge, more of a light touch, as if he’s afraid Peter could break.

“You’re a whole idiot, Peter Parker.”

“Parker-Leeds,” Peter manages to rasp out.

It’s supposed to be a joke. It supposed to make Ned laugh again or at least smile, but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Ned’s frown deepens.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

The apologies tumble out of his mouth like a waterfall—they don’t stop. He’s not even sure if he’s breathing between words.

Ned places his hand over Peter’s mouth.

“Stop. I’m not ready to forgive you, yet. For any of it. You don’t get a free pass for going and trying to get yourself killed! In fact, that puts you in more trouble.”

Peter’s lower lip starts trembling. He looks down quickly so that Ned won’t notice that his eyes are filling up. Maybe, it’s over after all.

“I’m going to go sit in the hallway,” Ned says. 

He leaves the room, but then almost immediately turns around.

“I know what you’re thinking Peter, Morgan told me what you said to her—about us. This, right here, isn’t me _leaving you_. This is me trying to do the mature thing and going to cool down because you scared the shit out of me and I’m so pissed. If I stay here, I know I will say things that I’ll regret.”

Peter’s blinking rapidly.

“And the last couple of weeks has been us _fighting_ , Peter, not breaking up! We’re grown-ups, _married_ , life happens, it’s been a very stressful year. I know you’re going through a lot. And couples fight sometimes when things happen. I know this was our first big one, but it doesn’t mean it’s the end.”

Peter’s mouth opens and closes but no words come out.

“I love you, Pete. And I’m so glad you’re okay, but I’m so, so mad right now. So mad. But we can work it all out when you’re better, okay? I’ll be in the hallway. Just shout if you need me.”

Ned starts to close the door.

“Wait, Ned.” He pauses. “Is May still—“

“Yeah, Pete.”

Peter cries for a long time after that. He’s not even sure why, probably just everything that happened, everything that’s happening.

He didn’t think he’d been crying loud enough for Ned to hear from the hallway, but after he’s out of tears to shed he hears Ned’s voice.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

 

 

Pepper visits him about an hour later. He’s been dozing on and off. His body wants nothing more than sleep, but his brain is going too haywire to fully rest.

“You’ve done a lot of things that remind me of him in your life,” she says. “But this was classic Tony Stark, in the worst possible way.”

He laughs, but he’s also crying again, he wants to be done with crying.

“There was a message from him in my suit. One that I’d never heard before.”

Pepper looks completely taken aback.

“I wouldn’t have made it to your house without it,” he confesses.

Pepper doesn’t answer immediately, just stares out the window. She’s always been hard for Peter to read.

“What do you need from me, Peter?” she finally says.

Peter just looks at her quizzically.

“You’re not doing well, and I don’t just mean the bullet hole through your body. I want to help you.”

It makes him angry. It reminds him of how he felt all the times he’d lashed out at Ned recently.

“I’m not a child anymore. I shouldn’t need protocols or help to save me. I should be able to do this by myself by now.”

“None of that,” Pepper says sharply. “I don’t care what you think you should or shouldn’t be able to do. I want to help you. Talk to me.”

Peter closes his eyes, he thinks through the last year, and then his whole life. 

“I feel like—“ He cuts off, but Pepper nods for him to continue. “I feel like I’m falling, like if I mistime a line. I’m spinning around in the air, shooting out webs every which way, but everything I latch onto crumbles away. I just keep falling and spinning. The end is nowhere in sight and I’m picking up speed.”

The silence is full. Peter feels like he put a part of himself into it that he’s never let out before. He wonders if Ned heard the whole thing, if he’s still in the hallway.

Pepper takes his hand and squeezes it. “You have us, to hold on to, me and Morgan and Ned.”

He notices that she doesn’t say May. It tips something in him. He feels wild, out of control.

“And what happens when you‘re gone?” His voice is embarrassingly high, and it seems to break on every word. “You’ll all leave eventually.”

Pepper keeps talking after that, but Peter tunes it out. He turns his body as much away from her as he can, hoping that she’ll get the memo that he wants to be alone. She finally realizes that he’s not going to say anything more. She sighs and presses a kiss to his forehead before she goes.

The heart rate monitor starts blaring a few minutes later. Peter looks at it, confused. Ned bursts into the room, calling his name.

“I don’t know why it’s doing that,” Peter tells him. “I’m fine.”

Ned’s panicked eyes comb over Peter. “You’re shaking.”

“I shake a lot.” Peter shrugs. He hadn’t even realized that the trembling had started again.

Ned starts pressing the call button over and over. 

Bruce gets there fast, takes in the scene before him. Peter wishes the machine would stop beeping, the sound is giving him a headache. Ned’s holding Peter’s hands tight, as if trying to stop them from shaking. Peter feels oddly detached from the situation.

It’s weird to see Ned being the one freaking out. That has been Peter's department recently.

“I don’t know what’s happening.” He’s practically spluttering the words out. “He says he’s fine, but that thing won’t stop going off. Is it broken? I can’t get him to stop shaking.”

Bruce gently removes Ned’s hands from Peter’s. The tremors are getting stronger now, the heart rate machine’s beeping growing faster. Bruce takes his pulse manually, looks in his eyes.

“I think he’s having an anxiety attack, he’ll be okay, I’m just going to give him something to make him sleep. That okay, Peter?” 

That can’t be right. Peter knows all about anxiety attacks, he’s had so many recently. This is just above baseline, at worst.

Bruce is pushing something into his IV, and his body begins to relax. The beeping slows.

“Does he get attacks often?” He hears Bruce ask Ned, but they sound far away.

“Um, sometimes? He usually freaks out, but he seemed almost calm this time. It was scary.”

 

 

When Peter wakes for the third time, Morgan is curled up next to him on the bed. Ned is asleep on a big armchair in the corner.

He shifts slightly, accidentally jostling Morgan, waking her up. She blinks at Peter sleepily, offers him a small smile that quickly fades from her face when she realizes where they are.

“Why’d you let me think you were drunk?”

“In my defense, I was in shock.”

That makes her cry. Peter really wishes someone would just laugh at one of his jokes.

“I’m so, so sorry.” She says, big brown eyes shining.

Peter shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. Everything that happened is one hundred percent my fault.”

 

 

He’s only confined to the bed for three days.

“You’re easy,” Bruce says. “After we initially stabilized you, we basically just had to pump nutrients and painkillers into you. Your mutant body does the rest.”

His stomach still aches. On the outside, he can only see a scar, but Bruce says that his body is still working hard to heal underneath.

Walking, if he can even call it that, is agony. Most of his weight rests on Ned and Morgan while he shuffles his feet a little bit. If he wasn’t in so much pain he’d be embarrassed.

They get him to his apartment, prop him up on his bed. Pepper stocks the kitchen, asks Ned if he wants her and Morgan to stay. He shakes his head and Morgan hugs Peter a little too tight before she leaves. He barely suppresses the gasp of pain.

He waits until they’re gone to ask.

“Can we go see May?”

Ned looks at him incredulously. “Pete, we barely got you here.”

“I need to see her.”

“We’ll try tomorrow, okay?”

Hot, frustrated tears spring to his eyes. He wasted so much time he could have had with May by getting himself shot. He wants to scream at Ned, but he reminds himself that it’s his own fault. He swipes angrily at the tears.

Ned looks lost, out of his element. Maybe he’s felt like that for as many months as Peter has. Peter just didn’t notice because he was so wrapped up in his own head.

 

 

Ned’s not there when it happens. Life goes on even when life is falling apart, so he had to be at work. Pepper and Morgan are there though. Pepper’s near inconsolable—May had been her best friend for all these years after all.

Peter doesn’t scream or cry like he did when he found out about his parents, or when Ben or Tony happened right in front of him. He doesn’t know if it’s better that they were prepared for this. It doesn’t feel better.

Morgan hugs him tight. It’s only been a week since he got home, and his stomach hasn’t stopped aching.

“I’m so sorry, Peter.” Tear tracks zigzag across her cheeks. “Peter?”

She looks worried. He realizes how weird it is that he isn’t crying. 

His stomach twists violently. 

He’s out of the room, before they can protest, mumbling something about the bathroom. He barely makes it into a stall, fumbling with the lock, before he’s unleashing the contents of his stomach. Even when there’s nothing left inside of him, he can’t stop gagging and heaving. Some part of him is grossed out by the way his head rests on the public toilet, but that part is nowhere near in control of his actions. 

When the horrific experience finally stops, he shakily gets to his feet. He feels lightheaded. He still isn’t crying.

He opens the door and his eyes land on Ned. He must have been in the stall for a long time, because there’s his husband, sitting on the dirty bathroom floor, holding a water bottle. He’s definitely been crying, eyes rimmed with red. Why can’t Peter cry? He’s been crying for the last 11 months and now the tears have gone dry.

Ned offers the bottle to Peter and he accepts it gratefully. He chugs half. It’s a huge mistake, the water seems to settle almost immediately in his stomach and he’s rushing back into the stall again.

“Shit, sorry,” Ned says. 

This time is faster. It helps, somehow, to know that Ned is there.

When he stands again, Ned holds out the water bottle, this time hesitantly. 

“Small sips maybe? I’m afraid you’re going to pass out.”

Peter does as instructed, then goes to the sink to splash cold water on his face.

“Are you okay?”

Anger flares in Peter. It’s a dumb question. In what world would he be okay right now? He uses all his power to quell the fire. Ned doesn’t deserve to be yelled at. Peter’s trying be better than he’s been the last couple of months. He takes a few minutes to collect himself, splashes more cold water, grips the sink so hard that it starts to crack, switches to the next sink, more cold water.

“I’m so angry,” he finally says.

“Okay.”

“It doesn’t feel real.”

He’s fourteen again. He remembers sneaking into Ned’s apartment a few nights after Ben. He had said almost the same thing then. It’s the first time that Ned held him. He remembers thinking that Ned was the best friend he’d ever have. It’s still true.

 

 

He doesn’t remember going home, but something tells him that he’s been laying in bed for a while. He feels like he hasn’t moved in centuries.

“Okay, bed for today, but tomorrow we’re at least moving to the couch.” 

Ned sounds scared that he might never get up. If Peter had the energy, he would remind Ned that he always does, eventually.

 

 

Ned doesn’t leave it up to chance. He knows Peter too well, so he calls in Morgan. He knows that Peter always puts on his best front for her.

So, he makes it to the couch. Morgan’s not satisfied with that. 

“Let’s go for a walk, Peter. The sun is out.”

Before he can deny the request. Ned is shoving Peter’s coat toward him.

“Call me if you need me.”

Peter doesn’t know if he’s talking to him or Morgan. It feels like they plotted against him.

It is sunny. Peter will give them that. It feels nice on his face when he steps outside.

Morgan talks nonstop about everything except the big things. He has a sneaking suspicion that Ned gave her a list of what not to say. It probably looked a little something like:

Do NOT talk about:

  1. May
  2. His injury and the events of the night it happened
  3. Divorce and/or marital problems
  4. Adoption
  5. Spider-Man, responsibility, other related variants
  6. Tony
  7. Ben
  8. Guilt
  9. The future
  10. The past



At least that’s what Peter would put on the list. He thinks that any of those things could break him right now.

It’s a long walk, and Peter’s stomach hurts. He hasn’t been able to tell the difference between leftover pain from his injury and the general queasiness that he seems to feel all the time. 

The sun starts to feel too bright now. And god, the smells, his brain isn’t working to filter out the extra sensory input like it usually does.

He’s going to throw up.

“Can we sit down?” He pleads. He wants to go inside, but he doesn’t feel like he could make the walk into any of the shops.

“Oh, fuck, you’ve gone super pale.” She pulls him towards an empty bench.

He closes his eyes and covers his ears, breathes through his mouth instead of his nose. It shouldn’t bother Morgan. This is actually one of the most normal things that’s happened in the last week. He hits sensory overload often enough. It’s happened quite a few times around Morgan throughout her life.

When he no longer feels sick to his stomach, he opens one eye. He sees that Morgan’s on her phone, texting. He sees his husband’s name at the top of the screen.

So they are conspiring behind his back. In a way it’s nice that they care so much, but he wishes they didn’t have to. He’s supposed to be the one taking care of them.

“Better?” Morgan asks when she sees the open eye.

He gives a small nod. Morgan takes it as a signal to go back into her unending commentary on everything. Everything that is not on Ned’s list—which Peter grows more and more sure exists with every passing second.

It turns out that they have a lot to catch up on. Peter hasn’t really kept as close tabs on Morgan this year. She’s graduating from MIT in the spring, glad that she stuck it out, but terrified to go out into the world. She has schematics for an arc reactor powered spacecraft, and hopes to pitch it at Stark Industries when she takes her job there. She tells him about her hardest classes and the research she does on campus. She tells him about the boy who broke her heart in the spring and her new roommate who she adores. She tells him about the patrols that she’s gone on, in her Iron suit, the people she has saved, the mistakes she’s made but worked her way out of. He can’t believe how much he missed.

Then, Morgan hesitates. It’s the first time she’s really come up for air and Peter has a bad feeling that she’s going to go off script. 

_Please don’t touch Ned’s list._ He silently begs her. _I’ll break and I don’t want you to see it._

“Peter.” She waits until he makes eye contact. “You know how much you mean to me, right?”

It’s not exactly what he expects her to say. 

“Duh,” he replies.

“Come on, I’m serious.” Her nose crinkles a bit like it does when she’s annoyed. “Like, we always say that we’re brother and sister or whatever, but you know I really mean it right? I have friends that I call my brothers or sisters. But us, that’s real sibling shit. We’re family.”

He does know that, kind of. In the same way he knows that Ned isn’t going to leave him. Both are true at the moment, but things change fast. 

“I don’t think you understand how much I love you, Peter. All this time, you didn’t have to be in my life. You could have just faded out, sent postcards on holidays. But, you chose to be there, year after year.”

She’s crying a little now, her voice wavering with the weight of her words. 

“And you’re always there for me, worrying about me, protecting me. And when I was a kid, I thought it was just about a sense of duty to my dad, but I don’t think that anymore. We’re _family_. But, it’s a two way street and I’m all grown-up now.”

He wants to tell her that she’s not. She’ll always be his little sister.

“You’ve always been there for me, and I’ve never gotten to look out for you. So let me, please.”

If Peter hadn’t lost the ability, he’d be crying now. There’s still a lump in his throat. He clears it a few times so that he can speak.

“I haven’t been there for you this whole year.”

“I think you get a pass for this year.”

He doesn’t think that he should, but he can already see the circuits firing in Morgan’s brain. He doesn’t want her to recount the details of the year. He never wants to think about this year again.

“Well what about—“

“Shut up, literally the only other time I can think of is the ten year anniversary of Iron Day and that was one day. And I’m giving you a pass for that too!”

They’re in a bit of a stare-off for a while after that. Morgan’s eyes are fierce and determined, but soft around the edges. Peter still doesn’t know if he quite believes all that she said, but he believes that she believes it. Maybe that’s enough.

“Okay,” he says.

“Good.”

The walk back to his apartment feels lighter. His stomach doesn’t ache like it did on the way out. The sun goes back to feeling pleasant.

He feels sort-of, kind of, maybe like himself.

“Oh, and don’t you dare tell Ned we talked about anything heavy,” Morgan says on their elevator ride up to his floor. “Your man is insane. He typed up a whole list of what I couldn’t say. I think I broke a few of the rules.”

Peter knew it. He can’t help but smile. He feels warm, the lightness from outside has carried over into his apartment. 

“Thanks, Morgs.” He hopes she can tell how much he means it.

“Anytime, Pete, literally.” Her smile is radiant. 

 

 

The world keeps spinning. And slowly, it gets easier again. 

Peter goes back to work. He starts patrolling again, just with Morgan at first, but then on his own too. He doesn’t take big risks. He and Ned have the conversations they’ve needed to have for a long time. Peter gets to apologize for everything and make it up to him the right way. They discuss trying adoption again, decide to wait a couple more months for things to settle. Morgan and Pepper are always around, in person, or on the phone, or in a text. Peter’s life doesn’t feel empty like he thought it would.

Of course there are setbacks, because that’s life. Peter regains the ability to cry in the form of panic attacks. They’re just as bad as they were on his worst weeks in December. It makes him mad because he thought he was doing better. 

He hides them from Ned. And Morgan and Pepper. He’s trying to be better, but old habits die hard and he’s not perfect. He spends many nights struggling to contain gasping breaths and broken sobs, trying not to shake so much that the whole bed vibrates.

It’s been a particularly bad week—he’s lost count of how many he’s had since Monday. He’s lying in bed next to a sleeping Ned, trying to ward off the next one. He’s at his wit’s end—the sleepless nights and fear grinding him down. He’s going to snap at some point and that it won’t be pretty when he does.

His mind floats to Tony’s recording, the one that played in his suit. _Get help._ It suddenly seems to loop through his brain. _Get help. Get help._ It feels urgent—if he doesn’t do it now, he never will.

“Ned?” Peter shoots a hand out towards him, makes contact with his back. “Are you awake?”

“Am now,” he mumbles sleepily. He rolls over to face Peter. “Everything okay?”

Peter bites his lip. He doesn’t know what to say. He needs to say something.

“No.” It’s simple, effective.

It wakes Ned up completely. He sits up quickly. “What’s wrong?” His voice is a few pitches higher than normal.

Peter takes a deep breath and decides not to think.

“The panic attacks aren’t going away, I don’t know why. There are so many, all the time, it’s so scary, Ned. I want them to stop.” He barely chokes out the last part.

He can see the cogs of Ned’s brain turning with questions. He’s probably wondering when they happen, since Peter and Ned are together so often. He’s probably wondering how many ‘so many’ is.

“You could have told me sooner, before it got to this point,” Ned says.

“I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Ned kisses Peter. It surprises him, in a good way. It’s long and firm and it says that everything is going to be okay.

“Not a single thing. I’m glad you told me.”

Peter loves him, loves him, loves him.

“I love you.”

“I love you. Now sleep. We’ll find someone to call in the morning. It’ll be okay.”

Peter sleeps a little better.

He goes to therapy. He gets medicine that dims the symptoms. He gets techniques to prevent attacks and to pull himself out of them. He gets sessions that help him put things in perspective. 

He has a feeling that he’s going to be okay. Everything gets better, slowly.

* * *

It’s December again when Peter and Ned finally sign adoption papers, two years since May died. The timing makes him nervous. He’s not a fan of December.

“But, you’ll have the kids for Christmas!” Morgan reminds him when he calls her about it. “That’s the best gift.”

Kids, plural, a brother and sister. It had been Peter’s idea. Him and Ned both want more than one kid, but the adoption process is tricky. It takes a long time. It makes more sense to try siblings if they really want more than one. 

Ned had agreed whole-heartedly and they quickly fell in love with 3-year-old Sylvie and her 9-month-old brother, Logan.

They realized that they were on slightly different pages when Peter said that he was excited to never have to deal with an adoption agency ever again. Peter thought that they were done if they got Sylvie and Logan. Ned thought they would keep trying with less pressure for it to work out.

They fought about it, because Ned didn’t see the point in not at least trying and Peter didn’t want anymore heartbreak. But they were okay, Peter was okay. 

Now, they’re waiting to see how life with kids goes before making any big decisions about the future.

They’re both nervous out of their minds on the day that the kids are supposed to arrive and stay for good. But they’re also happy. Peter never thought he would be this happy in December again.

The kids bring sleepless nights and sometimes short tempers. But underneath it all is blanket of domestic bliss that’s so strong it almost knocks Peter over sometimes. He loves his kids. He loves his husband.

“He said we make a good team,” Peter tells Ned, on a day when they’re really killing the parenting game. “In the recording. I think he was right.”

He introduces Morgan to the kids as their aunt on purpose. He introduces Pepper to them as their grandma by accident. His eyes go wide as the words tumble out of his mouth.

He feels Ned watching him cautiously, but he’s okay. He’s sad that May will never meet her grandchildren, but they would have known both May and Pepper as their grandmothers if they both were here. He’s not replacing May. It’s okay.

Christmas Day arrives. Pepper and Morgan come to their apartment along with Ned’s parents. Rhodey, Happy and Bruce show up too, which is a surprise to Peter. 

There are far too many people crowded by the tree in the Parker-Leeds apartment. It’s bursting with life. The adults gather around Sylvie and Logan, cooing. Sylvie happily shows off her new toys, she loves being the center of attention.

Peter’s heart feels just as full as the room. There’s a dull ache for all of the people that he wishes were there, but he can almost ignore it when he sees all of the people who are.

“I can’t believe you have kids, dude. You are so old.” Morgan’s grinning wryly up at him.

Instead of responding, he puts her in a headlock and starts mussing up her hair. She squawks in protest until he releases her. They’re both laughing.

“I’m proud of you,” she says softly.

Peter feels like maybe this is the other side, the happy ending that he’d been searching for his whole life. Maybe they made it through.


End file.
